Fright Night
by JamesLuver
Summary: Modern AU. John has an aversion to Halloween, even with Anna's undying enthusiasm. But something might be about to change his feelings.


**A/N:** This is a belated birthday gift for the lovely **mr-and-mrs-bates**. I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to finish it, and I hope you enjoy! Happy Halloween!

Based on the following two prompts: _"You have no idea how to carve a pumpkin, but I'd be happy to teach you."_ (otpisms) and _Which one of your otp wants to buy all this Halloween decorations and which one is like we're not getting all this junk_. (imaginetheotp)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

 _Fright Night_

For the last few weeks, John had been facing the approaching day with a sense of impending doom. And now it was almost upon him.

Halloween.

It was his idea of hell. A commercialised holiday brought over from America to cause him yet more grief. Oh, he could well understand why children enjoyed it so much. If it had been around when he was a boy, he probably would have been the same. But, really, what did it actually _teach_ anyone? The kids today wouldn't care less about the history of the celebration. All they wanted were sweets or, God forbid, _money_. Nothing else mattered to them. John doubted that even one of them knew what Samhain was.

And he hated the _awkwardness_ of it all. He had never considered himself any good with large groups of children, and there was little worse than standing there surrounded by a dozen of them, trying to make himself sound sincere about what they were wearing and how good they looked when some of them turned up wearing bloody _bin bags_. How on earth could that constitute as wearing a costume? Over the last few years, he had avoided the whole thing by going out. At least that way his house had been empty when the children had come knocking. It was better than skulking about out of sight whilst some precocious Dracula hammered on the door.

But this year had to be different. Because his house was no longer a bachelor pad.

His house was also Anna's house, and there was nothing on earth that made him happier than that. Even now, almost a full year later, he still couldn't believe that a woman as beautiful and funny and kind as she was had agreed to move in with him. Hell, he still couldn't believe that, after two _years_ , someone like her would want to share her life with someone like him. They were absolute worlds apart, and yet she somehow found something in him to love.

She loved him. It still sent shivers down his spine.

It was strange, really, how compatible the two of them were. Under ordinary circumstances it ought not to have worked. He was fifteen years her senior, bulky and brooding. She was sunshine and smiles. He needed the aid of a cane after his career in the army had come to an abrupt end, a bullet shattering his knee. Anna was lithe and athletic. He preferred solitude to company. Anna was a social butterfly. He had made a thousand mistakes in his past, not least his battle with alcoholism. Even their statures ought not to have worked, for she was small and delicate and he was tall and hulking. They looked like gazelle and mammoth.

And yet somehow their love transcended all of that. He had met her at his lowest ebb, struggling after a messy divorce, and piece by piece she had put him back together again, until he was strong if not whole. Her love had healed the sore wounds on his heart. And, somehow, he had managed to provide the safety and security that she had always craved. He was very lucky indeed.

Even so, through all this, there was one small downside to sharing a house with Anna Smith: she loved all kinds of holidays. Halloween was high on her list. Thus far, he had managed to avoid celebrating the holiday with her, but there was no such get-out clause now, when they shared the same space. He knew that she would throw herself into it with the greatest vigour.

He woke early a week before Halloween, to Anna pulling the duvet away from him.

"What are you doing?" he slurred, grabbing clumsily for the sheets. It was bloody cold this morning.

Anna's eyes shone with excitement. She was wrapped up in a robe. "It's time to get up, John. We've got a busy day ahead of us."

"What time is it?" said John, squinting through the grey darkness at the clock on his bedside table. He swore. "Anna, it's barely seven!"

"So? You're always up early."

"And you hate getting up early."

"Yes, but I can sacrifice a lie-in for Halloween shopping."

"And _I_ would quite like to stay in bed with you on a Saturday morning." He succeeded in grabbing her wrist and tugged on her. She squealed as she half-fell over his chest, and he looped his spare arm around her waist, keeping her in place.

"Let me go, John Bates," she said breathlessly. "I mean it. We don't have time for silly games."

"You're wrong. There's always time for silly games," he said, leaning up to kiss her.

"Not before Halloween shopping, there isn't," she retorted.

He groaned. "Come on, Anna. The shops are hardly going to sell out of Halloween things this far in advance. Most people wait until the actual _day_ before flocking to the shops to grab a bargain. Some even wait until it's bloody over, which defeats the object if you ask me."

"So you do have some Halloween spirit," she teased.

He snorted. "Hardly. Just common sense."

Anna giggled, running her finger down his cheek. "You're a softie at heart, you know."

"Only for you," he murmured, and this time she didn't stop him when he leaned up to kiss her. She sighed in to his mouth, weaving her fingers through his hair, pulling away just enough to brush her words against his lips.

"You're also insatiable," she said.

"Only for you," he repeated, running his hand down her spine. She arched into his touch when he touched her buttocks through her robe. She whimpered, then was on him all at once. He barely had time to register surprise.

"Maybe we can spare five minutes," she said breathlessly.

He rolled them over so that she was pinned beneath him, and began to feather kisses down her neck. Anna wriggled beneath him.

"Ten minutes," she managed.

He pulled her gown apart, revealing her lovely breasts to the room and began an earnest exploration there too.

"Fif-fifteen minutes," she gasped. He felt her toes curling against his calves and smirked in victory.

Started to move further down her body.

"Oh. Oh, God," she whimpered as he reached his destination and set his mouth to work. Her fingers curled almost painfully through his hair, and her voice was a faint sound over the thrum of his blood in his head. "Half-half an hour, oh…"

She arched up into his ministrations and he was the smug winner in this particular battle.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, they were sitting at the breakfast table together, showered and dressed, munching their way through jam and toast. Their morning diversions had only improved John's overall mood just slightly, and now the dread was setting in once more for the horrors that the coming day would surely bring. His appetite was reflecting that.

"You're not eating much," Anna commented, astute as ever. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he said.

"I know you, John Bates. You're not still moping about Halloween, are you?"

"I'm not moping," he protested.

"Yes, you are. You've got a face like a wet afternoon. It's not as bad as all that. You faced worse things in the army."

"I'm not sure I did," he replied sardonically. "I think I'd rather be facing the guns again."

Anna reached across and smacked his arm. "Don't say things like that."

He sobered. "All right. I'm sorry. It's not something to joke about, I do know that."

He knew that Anna didn't like to hear about his time in the army and the end of his career. Hell, _he_ didn't like remembering it most of the time. It was the start of the worst period in his life, where drinking had taken over everything and his marriage had begun to disintegrate beyond repair.

Not that he was upset about that. He had been miserable with Vera. If they had stayed together, it could only have had a destructive end. Splitting clean away from her had paved the way to the love of his life. He would take all of the bad times again if it meant the same outcome.

To appease her, he reached across the table and took her hand in his, stroking his thumb against the back of it. It raised a smile, which he took as a victory.

"How about I promise to try not to mope about Halloween?" he said.

"You can promise it, but I know it's one that you won't be able to keep."

"Well, I'll grin and bear it for you, my darling."

"Good," she said. "Relationships are all about give and take, as you well know. I'm afraid this is something that you're just going to have to give in to."

"Clearly the smart thing to do would have been to fall in love with someone as grumpy as me," he joked.

Anna shuddered. "Two grumpy John Bateses? Sounds like a nightmare."

"More like a dream come true," he smirked, and she rolled her eyes.

"Finish your breakfast, Mr. Bates," she said. "As punishment, you can wash the pots. I'm going to go and finish getting ready."

"Yes, ma'am," he mock-saluted, which brought forth another infamous roll of the eyes.

"It's a good job I love you," she said. "You are utterly infuriating."

"But you wouldn't change me for the world?" he said.

A reluctant smile tugged the corners of her mouth. "I wouldn't change you for the world."

It was the kind of answer that made him soar, and he thanked God for her every day.

* * *

Once he had finished tidying the kitchen and Anna had decided that she was ready, they headed out to the car. Anna had argued that his boot was bigger and that would be much more beneficial to them, so John had resigned himself to driving. Not that he minded. Not really. When it came to Anna, he was utterly powerless to resist anything she might ask of him.

The journey across town to the local supermarket was made largely in companiable silence. Anna hummed along to the songs on the radio and John was content to listen to her, enjoying the way that she would break out into song when a line she particularly liked came through.

Eventually, they pulled into the carpark. Saturday mornings were always busy, and this was no exception. They had to cruise around the carpark twice before he spotted a space that he could squeeze in to, made harder by the fact that the other car was parked over on one side. Anna rolled her eyes as he cursed.

"There's loads of room," she said as she slipped out of the car.

"That's because you're skinny. If that was me, I'd have a bloody hard time of it. Look, let me write the registration number down before we go in. If the driver hits my car I'm having the bastard."

"Don't swear," she scolded him. "You're only being like this because you're a grumpy arse. I'm going to fetch a trolley and I'll wait for you inside the foyer." With that, she flounced away.

John scowled at her retreating back, stubbornly refusing to admit that she was right. Besides, really, who would want their car to be hit by some idiot not paying attention to what they were doing? Anna loved her little battered Ka more than anything, refusing to trade it in for a better model, and she would be even more peeved if someone scratched it.

Slipping the little piece of paper with the registration details into his pocket, he trudged towards the supermarket's entrance, steeling himself for the coming ordeal. He hated shopping at the best of times, and the weekly grocery shop was no different. As a bachelor, he had liked to go in there, grab whatever he needed, and hurry back out. Shopping with Anna was very different. She browsed at a leisurely pace, picking up all manner of exotic things to scrutinise before debating whether she wanted to buy them or not. Sometimes she would change her mind on something three or four times, and send him traipsing back and forth to retrieve things, like a puppy. It was one of the less pleasing things about living with Anna, but he found it unfailingly endearing, too. He was simply enamoured with everything she did.

He found her in the foyer, trolley ready, Bags for Life swinging on the little hook. He leaned in, wrapping his arm around her waist and dropping a kiss into her hair.

"I'm sorry for being a grumpy arse," he murmured. "I promise to be better."

"Good," she said. "Now let's go. We'll start on the seasonal aisle today."

He squeezed her in acquiesce, and stepped away from her, his cane thudding against the floor as he limped after her. That was one consolation to shopping trips, he supposed: he always got a nice view of Anna's backside as she pushed the trolley. She seemed to sense exactly where his gaze had gone, and added an extra swing to her hips. The minx. He hastily moved his gaze away and quickened his pace so he could stay by her side, suppressing a groan as they made their way inside the supermarket's entrance.

It was his worst nightmare come true. Right at the front of the shop were mannequins dressed in children's Halloween outfits, little witches and warlocks and, of all things, _pumpkins_. They looked absolutely ridiculous, with a garish green shirt beneath the shoulder straps of the orange material. Why would any parent dress their child in that? It was practically cruelty.

Anna didn't seem to think so, cooing, "Oh, look how cute they are! I bet George would love one of those!"

"For once, I think Mary would be of the same mind as me," said John. "She'd think it was a fashion disaster. Buy that at your own peril. I genuinely think she'd disown you if you dared to buy something so ugly for her son."

"Mary's as boring as you when it comes to Halloween," Anna retorted. "Though she has dated some ghoulish men in the past, so I don't think she can turn her nose up too much. There was this one bloke at a Halloween party…I shudder just to remember it."

"I don't think I want to know," said John.

"Believe me, you really, really don't. He was a real horror. To be fair to her, she was as drunk as a lord and on the rebound after she'd split with Matthew, but even so. I've never let her live it down."

"I bet she hates that."

"Oh, yes, she does. Then again, she still likes to act theatrical and declare that she can't believe that I fell for her dad's best friend."

"Charming," John pouted, swiftly steering Anna away from those pumpkin monstrosities whilst she was engrossed in her story. "Sybil would never say something like that. That's why she's my favourite."

Anna giggled. "Don't worry, I know how to shut Mary up."

"Quite a feat. You must tell Robert the secret. He's been trying that for the past twenty-six years."

"I just go all dreamy-eyed and tell her about the fantastic sex that we have."

John sputtered. _"What?"_ He had a nasty feeling that the old bloke in front of them had heard what she'd said.

Oblivious, Anna continued cheerfully, "You know Mary. She hates to talk about sex. It's the most effective way of shutting her up about a subject you're tired of hearing about. As soon as she starts teasing me about you, I start to tell her gory details and she goes running for the hills. It's a sweet victory."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, feeling his cheeks burning. The old bloke had _definitely_ pushed his hearing aid in further to eavesdrop more effectively. "Isn't there anything else you can do to deter her that doesn't involve our intimate details being broadcast for the world to know?"

Anna shrugged. "I didn't think you'd care. You get glowing five star reviews. You have nothing to worry about. Any other man would be preening."

"I'm not quite sure the same rules apply when the woman in question is almost a niece to me," he said. "Anyway, let's change the subject. I'm cringing as much as Mary would."

"Spoilsport," Anna said. "All right, have it your way. Look at this!"

She was pointing to a horrid, wiry, stuffed cat sitting on the shelf. It was jet black in colour, as was befitting the Halloween season, and had huge, menacing green eyes.

"It's so cute!" she cooed.

"We have very different ideas about what's cute," said John. "It's creepy. Look at those eyes. I'd never sleep again if I thought that thing was in the house with me. I'd be frightened of it getting a life all of its own and coming to kill us."

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid. Look how many are left. I'd say that that's indicative of most people agreeing with me."

"You're just determined to hate all things Halloween," said Anna, hooking one of them from the shelf and placing it in the bottom of the trolley.

"Wait until it's pulling an _Annabelle_ on us. You'll change your tune then."

She took no notice of him, wheeling the trolley further down the aisle. It was like watching a child in the sweetshop. There were so many different things to grab her attention that she didn't seem to know where to focus first, her voice rising in pitch with her excitement as she pointed out everything that she liked. There were quite a few people staring at them as they passed, as if they thought that she'd escaped from the madhouse, but John found himself not caring. As much as he hated the holiday, he couldn't deny it: Anna was absolutely adorable. Her child-like enthusiasm only made her more lovable, and he knew, deep down, that he would do absolutely anything for her if it meant that he could keep her as happy as this. Even so, he found that she had questionable tastes. Hell, she'd probably clear these shelves entirely given half the chance, like a locust passing through. Every item was thoroughly examined. A few were cast off, but not many of them. At this rate, there would be no room in their trolley for any food. John stared down at the veritable treasure-trove of Halloween decorations that were jumbled in there. There were ugly skeletons, huge furry spiders, witch ornaments, vampires…Quite where they were going to put all of this was a mystery to John.

He caught a glimpse of that cat staring up at him with its huge, ugly eyes and shuddered. Whilst Anna was distracted peering at the offerings on the bottom shelf, John reached into the trolley. He scrounged around, came into contact with the cat's bristly fur, and pulled it out. Holding his breath, he inched it behind his back and tried to lean casually against the shelf, pushing the cat as far back on it as he could manage without drawing attention to himself.

"John Bates, stop that right now!"

He jumped guiltily. "What?"

Anna turned to look at him, a stern expression on his face. "Put that back this instant."

"I don't know what you mean," he protested.

"You know very well what I mean. Do you think I'm blind? I have to have eyes in the back of my head to catch the unruly kids at work out. Now stop trying to act the fool and put the cat back in the trolley. I like it and that's final."

Busted. How did she do it?

"You're a bloody sorceress," he grumbled, reluctantly sliding the cat back from its poor hiding place.

"We have to be to keep you men in line," Anna said, taking it from his hands and placing it delicately back in the trolley. It seemed to glower evilly at him, as if it knew that he'd try to get rid of it. Bloody thing made his spine tingle unpleasantly.

"Fine," he muttered. "But you'd better not put that thing in our bedroom. I'm moving into the spare room if you do."

"Duly noted. I'd hate to lose your body heat on these cold nights so I'll take your threat seriously. It can go in the living room."

It probably wasn't going to get any better than that. Sighing, John nodded his defeat, and Anna smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"You're a darling," she said.

Somehow, that made the defeat easier to bear.

* * *

John had driven huge military vehicles during his time in the army, and that had seeped through to his civilian life as well; he couldn't drive anything small. Even so, they still had trouble fitting in all of the shopping bags, because Anna had gone on an absolute mad spree with the Halloween things. John was sure that they had more for this holiday than they did for Christmas.

It took them several trips to and from the car to get everything inside the house. Once there, Anna abandoned unpacking the food in favour of looting through her Halloween bags. John rolled his eyes affectionately.

"Don't mind me," he said. "I'll sort this lot out on my own."

The sarcasm seemed to go straight over her head, so engrossed in her own world was she. "Thank you, love."

John could only shake his head. He carried on unpacking the groceries while Anna arranged all of her Halloween spoils on the kitchen table, studying the intensely, as if they were great works of art. He had a feeling that she'd be spending the rest of the day making the place look like a haunted mansion, never mind the fact that Halloween wasn't until the end of the week. Most of the neighbours were elderly people, which had been perfect for him when he'd moved here from London, seeking the quiet life, but he was sure that they'd all think that he and Anna had escaped from some kind of asylum if they saw the house dressed to the nines. Hell, most of his neighbours complained about _Christmas trees_. They weren't going to approve of anything else.

Not that that had ever stopped Anna before. She was the kind of person who met opposition with a smile, who deferred ire with kind words of her own. She left them feeling utterly bemused, beat them at their own game with complete ease. It was a joy to watch her work, and even being on the receiving end couldn't dampen his awe in her.

By the time that he had finished putting the groceries away, Anna was dividing the Halloween decorations into separate piles.

"Dare I ask what you're doing?" he said, sliding into the seat opposite her.

"I'm deciding which decorations should go where," she said, a little frown of concentration creasing her face. "I'm trying to find ones that complement each other nicely."

"They're Halloween decorations. There isn't supposed to be anything nice about them. And what do you mean, you're deciding where they should go? Why aren't they all going in one room?" If he had the choice, he'd shove them all in the laundry room. They'd be hidden out of sight at the back of the house and he wouldn't have to look at them every day.

"Don't be silly," said Anna, not looking up from her work. "That's not decorating the house if they're all in one room. The whole place has got to look magical for the kids."

"So we're going to be inviting the neighbourhood kids on a tour of the house, are we?" said John. "Letting them see the bedroom? We don't need Halloween decorations for that. Just get out some of your racier items, that'll scar them for life. The parents too, come to think of it."

Anna scowled at him. "Stop being an idiot."

"I'm simply pointing out the flaw in your desire to decorate every inch of the house."

"Well, what if I want to do it for _myself_? I like Halloween. I like to see the place dressed up. You've always known how much I love it. I thought you would have accepted that this is what it's going to be like now that we're together. I know it's annoying for you, but isn't that what relationships are about? Give and take?"

Her words hit him right in the centre of the heart, making it contract uncomfortably. God, she knew what saying that did to him. He had spent nearly all of their friendship, and those agonising years before it had turned into something more, thinking that he didn't deserve her, that he was always taking more from her than he was giving back. That was a low blow. It hurt.

Something must have shown on his face. Anna softened her tone at once. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

He tried to shrug indifferently. "Never mind."

"No, it was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

He sighed at that. What were they doing? They _never_ fought. It simply wasn't who they were. Oh, they'd had small disagreements in the past, there was no couple alive who didn't have disagreements in some capacity, but they never stayed angry with each other for long, nor did they ever resort to low blows. That was what his relationship with Vera had been like. "Of course I never want to stop you from enjoying what you love."

"And I know that. So, friends?"

"Always friends. Dress the house how you like. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll put that bloody cat somewhere far out of my line of sight."

Anna giggled, holding out her hand. "Deal."

He took it and shook it firmly, then pressed a kiss to the back of it. That sealed it.

* * *

The day before Halloween, John was sitting at his desk in the tiny third bedroom that they had agreed would be his office for the time being when he heard a huge bang in the hallway below. He hurried to the door at once.

"Anna?" he called. "Is that you?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "Don't worry, I'm all right! Just dropped something!"

Whatever she'd dropped had gone with quite some force. Throwing his pen in the direction of his desk, he hurried out of the room to check that she really was all right. Halfway down the stairs, he stopped short.

"Anna, what on earth are those?" he said weakly.

"You know exactly what they are!" she answered cheerfully, banging the front door shut behind her with her hip.

"Yes, but what are they doing in the house?"

Anna wrinkled her nose. "John, you can't have Halloween without pumpkins. It's the unwritten law."

"Haven't you bought enough Halloween stuff?"

"This is different. Carving pumpkins is the most important part of the whole holiday!"

It wasn't in John's opinion. Then again, he thought the whole thing was a real life nightmare. He watched as Anna staggered towards the kitchen with one huge pumpkin in her arms. The thing was almost as big as she was. Quite how she was managing to lift it was a mystery to him. He hurried forward to help her, gritting his teeth at the extra pressure on his knee as she relinquished the pumpkin to his charge.

"Thank you, love," Anna beamed, following along behind him. She dropped her bag on the worktop and moved over to the cutlery drawer, ferreting through it. "I know I have it somewhere—ah, here it is!" She surfaced, triumphant, clutching a scraper and a little corrugated knife in her hand. Where had that even come from? It certainly wasn't his. Shaking his head, he moved to sit at the table.

"So I take it you've changed your plans for the evening?" he asked mildly.

Anna shot him a look of confusion. "We had plans for tonight?"

"I was supposed to be wining and dining you."

"When did we decide that?" she frowned.

"Last week. We discussed it."

"I don't remember."

"We were in bed at the time. You kept grunting so I took that as your agreement."

"John, you should know never to ask me anything important in bed. I'm half-asleep most of the time."

"Or in the throes of passion."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Mind out of the gutter, please. Have you really arranged us tea out?"

"Well, I haven't booked a table anywhere," he admitted. "I thought we might just grab a bite to eat in the village. You know, not too fancy for a weekday but better than you cooking."

"Oh, if you haven't made reservations, do you think we can call a rain check on it? I'm not going to have time to carve these pumpkins tomorrow and I can't leave them unfinished."

John sighed. "If you want to take a rain check, of course we can. I'll cook."

"How about we compromise? We'll have a romantic takeaway while we carve pumpkins."

"While 'we' carve pumpkins?"

Anna beamed at him again, her whole face simply lighting up. "That's right. I've bought two. One for me, and one for you."

John resisted the urge to scrub his hand exasperatedly down his face with a very great effort. "Darling, I've never carved a pumpkin in my life. I wouldn't know where to start." He didn't want to start finding out now, either.

His less than enthusiastic tone did not deter Anna. "That's okay. I'll show you how to do it. It's easy once you get in to the swing of things."

"I beg to differ. I'll have you know that I was no art student in school. My efforts were always regarded with derision by the teacher."

"More of a poet's soul than an artist's?" she said, tongue in cheek.

"Something like that, yes," said John. "I painted my pretty pictures with words, not brushes. So you're wasting your time if you think that I'll be any help to you in this. I'll leave you to it."

"No, you won't," she countered. "I bought two pumpkins for a reason. Mine will go in the window. Yours is just for a bit of fun."

"So you can laugh at me?"

"When do I laugh at you?"

"All of the time. You're always using something at my expense."

"Oh, my poor hard-done-by soldier."

John pouted. "I am, aren't I?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "What if I said I'd find a way to make it up to you?"

John pretended to contemplate the notion. "That might be acceptable. Depends on what you suggest, of course."

She raised her eyebrows at him. He had always been good at reading her non-verbal cues, and he felt himself flush all over.

He tried to keep his voice casual as he said, "That might be acceptable."

"Good," said Anna. "Now, I'm just heading up to get changed. We'll order takeaway when I get back and then we'll have the table free to do some pumpkin carving."

"Can't wait," he muttered sarcastically at her back as she bounded from the room, but he couldn't stop his exasperated smile anyway. Anna really was a force of nature.

They decided on pizza in the end, although Anna smacked his hand when she realised that he was deliberately choosing the pizza parlour that was furthest away from where they lived in order to prolong the cooking time.

"Stop it," she scolded. "That's not going to win you any brownie points. If you carry on like that I'll rescind my generous offer and you'll be carving pumpkins with nothing else to look forward to."

He thought it best to behave after that.

After they had eaten and cleared away their boxes, Anna laid out her tools on the table.

"Here we are," she announced. "Bring the pumpkins over, John."

Reluctantly, he fetched them from the worktop, placing one at each side of the table. Anna produced two thin markers.

"Here we go," she said cheerfully. "We'll draw our designs out before we start carving them. That'll give us a better idea."

"Joy," John muttered. "And what happens if I mess it up?"

"You can just turn it around and start on the other side. Go on, give it a go. It's easy."

"Not for someone with no drawing skills," he said, but picked up one of the markers anyway. Anna set to work with great enthusiasm, a frown creasing her face, concentrating as hard as if she was a world renowned sculptor. Shaking his head, John turned his attention to his own pumpkin. He could envisage what he wanted quite clearly in his mind, but transferring that to his pen was another matter entirely. He tried a few lame lines and sighed when the effect was less than desirable. Never mind. He made a half-hearted effort with the rest of it and set his marker down. Anna finished her own with a flourish.

"Let's have a look, then!" she said.

John turned the pumpkin towards her. Anna's face flashed through confusion and mirth, her expression settling on one somewhere between solemnity and hilarity.

"What on earth is that?" she asked.

"It's a grumpy face," he said. "Can't you tell? A grumpy face to reflect how I feel right now."

Her lips twitched. "That looks nothing like a grumpy face. It _is_ grotesque."

"Fits Halloween either way. Come on, let me look at yours. I bet it puts mine to shame in every way."

Anna turned hers towards him. Well, he certainly wasn't wrong. Anna had drawn a delicate, intricate design on hers, vivid and original. Compared to his own, it looked like the bloody Mona Lisa. It was beyond good.

"I knew it," he said. "It looks like something a bloody finalist for the Turner Prize would draw. It's almost too good for a pumpkin."

"It's not," said Anna, thought there was a decidedly pleased glow about her cheeks. "We should start carving them now."

John eyed the tool he had by his side. "All right."

Anna picked hers up with confidence, and within moments had hacked in to the top of the pumpkin, arm pumping back and forth as she worked the top of it off. John picked up his own sharp utensil and eyed the top of the pumpkin. Well, this bit at least ought not to be too difficult. He worked the point of the knife slowly into the pumpkin and began to hack away at it.

It looked easier than it was. The repetitive motion grated on his arm, and he found that the implement simply didn't seem strong enough to cut through the pumpkin's tough surface. At times he was sure that the thing would snap from the handle completely. He half-hoped it would. At least then he might get away with not finishing this off.

Anna, of course, was making the whole thing look effortless. She had already cut the top of the pumpkin off—smoothly, no less—and had paused to watch him. Her lips twitched.

"You're not doing so well there, are you?" she said.

"I'm doing fine," he said stubbornly.

"You're hacking the thing to death."

"It's Halloween. It's supposed to be gruesome."

"Let me help you."

"No, thank you."

She huffed. "Don't be silly. Let me help. I'll show you the right technique."

"I like my technique."

"Fine, suit yourself. I'll carry on watching you struggle. Let me know when you're ready to concede defeat."

"I won't need to."

"If you say so. I don't know why you're being such an arse about it."

"I'm not being an arse about it," he said, more moodily than he'd intended. "I just want to be left alone to do what I need to. You dragged me into this ruddy thing in the first place. The least you could do is let me do it my way."

"Fine," said Anna, a touch icily herself. "I'm sorry for disturbing you."

She went back to scrutinising her own pumpkin, and John felt instantly regretful. Really, what a stupid thing for him to lose his temper over. When all was said and done, it was just a pumpkin. It was just a holiday. One night of the whole year. All right, her enthusiasm was a bit annoying, but that was no reason to get angry with her. She had to have _some_ faults. She couldn't be perfect. Loving Halloween to a ridiculous degree just happened to be one of hers. He would have to learn to accept it. They had many more of them in front of them. He didn't want to dim her enthusiasm in any way. That would destroy him, if he ever woke up one day and realised he'd stolen some of her light.

He sighed. It was time to draw the battle lines. "I'm the one who's sorry. You're right. I'm being a child. I could do with some pointers. You're better at this than I am."

Anna brightened at once, and he knew he'd done the right thing by nipping this in the bud. "We'll leave the design as it is, but I'll teach you how to carve it, if you'd like."

"I would," he said. "Though I am curious about why you'd want to leave this monstrosity as it is. It needs rescuing."

"I don't know about that," she said. "It's kind of cute."

"Because it's so pathetic?"

She nudged his shoulder. "Maybe."

"Charming," he said, without meaning it. "Come on, then, show me what to do."

"Budge up," she said.

He made to slide his chair to the side, but she caught his wrist.

"No, I meant push your chair out," she said.

John raised his eyebrows. "This is a novelty, being seduced on the pretence of carving a pumpkin."

"I'm not seducing you, silly beggar. But how else am I supposed to show you how to carve it without sitting on your knee?"

"I don't know. Perhaps ask a normal person."

She swatted him on the arm, sitting herself down on his lap with a little more force than John felt was strictly necessary. It winded him a little, but it didn't stop him from wrapping his arm around her waist and snugging her closer to him. He would be a fool to object to having her so close to him. Though it would make it almost impossible to concentrate on the task at hand. What person in their right mind would be able to take note of the best techniques for pumpkin carving when they could spend their time admiring the back of their loved one's neck?

"John, you're staring," Anna murmured. "You're burning a hole in me."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "I can't help being distracted by your beauty."

"Well, you're going to have to. I'll have you know that I'm a tough taskmaster."

"I can't imagine you ever being hard on the kids you teach."

"Sometimes I have to be. And I certainly have no qualms about coming down on you like a tonne of bricks if you don't pay attention."

"Doesn't sound like a threat to me," he murmured, squeezing her tighter.

"Behave yourself, or your smutty thoughts will ruin things."

"Make things better, more like."

She shot him an exasperated look over her shoulder, and he knew it was one he should take heed of. The last thing he wanted was for her to stipulate some kind of intimacy ban. "Mr. Bates!"

"I'm done, I'm done," he said hastily. "No more smutty thoughts. Show me how to carve the pumpkin."

"That's more like it," she said approvingly. "Here, take this."

She handed him the corrugated knife, and he eyed it dubiously. "I don't think this thing is very safe. It keeps almost snapping off on me. I'll end up cutting my finger off."

"Of course it's safe. It's fool proof. Or it should be." She shot him a pointed look over her shoulder.

He dug his fingers into her sides until she squealed. "That's not very nice."

"Don't you dare tickle me!"

"Then take your cruel words back. I have my own formidable skills to torment you with otherwise."

"All right, all right, you know I'm just teasing you," she said, squirming in his lap, a most enjoyable sensation. "Now let me show you what to do."

He was half-tempted to carry on regardless, but the look on her face stopped him. She looked so eager, and he didn't want to spoil that. So he nodded instead, holding out the knife to her. She took hold of his wrist and guided him towards the pumpkin.

"We start with the top," she told him. "You need to cut around the top and then scoop out the insides. Here, let me get you started." She used the strength in both of their arms to insert the knife where he had left off, her cut already sharper and cleaner than his had been. She began to move their arms in a repetitive motion. He was happy to let her take the lead, simply enjoying the sensation of her body moving gently against his as she completed the task. It was over too soon.

"There," she announced. "Do you think you have it?"

John wanted to lie, if only to keep her close to him, but he said, "Yes, I think so."

"Great," she said. "You carry on with that and I'll start carving my own pumpkin. Let me know when you're done." She hopped from his lap and resumed her own seat. He felt the loss of her keenly. But she had given him a task to complete, and he set about it dutifully. His edges weren't quite as smooth as the ones she had started, but it at least looked authentic, like he'd tried to make a real effort. If her smile was anything to go by, she was more than happy with his efforts.

"There you are," she exclaimed. "That's right. Now you can start scooping the insides out."

"Sounds like something a murderer would say," he joked. He picked up the scooper she'd supplied him with and set about his task.

It was messy work. The pumpkin was sticky, and it became increasingly difficult to pull out the innards the nearer to the end he got. Ill-practiced as he was, he found that he was in danger of squashing the whole pumpkin with the force that he was exerting. Anna, on the other hand, had years of experience on her side, and she'd soon breezed past him, waiting patiently for him to catch up. It took him a long time to do so, but eventually he laid his tools to one side.

"Now what?" he said.

"The best part!" she said gleefully. "We get to carve the faces in! You have to be careful now, though. If you use too much pressure you'll break your pumpkin and ruin the whole thing."

"I don't think that would be too much of a disaster with this thing," said John.

"But you've still got to be careful! This is a very important day, Mr. Bates. It commemorates the first time you've ever carved a pumpkin. It's got to go centre stage in the window."

"It'd probably scare all the kids away." Actually, that wasn't a bad idea.

"Silly beggar. Now chop, chop, there's work still to do!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He had to love her zest for every task put before her. He had a better idea of what he needed to do now, and carefully slid the knife in to the crude markings he had drawn on the pumpkin's surface. He frowned in concentration, taking care to keep his hand as steady as possible as he followed the lines. He wasn't quite successful.

A giggle distracted him. He glanced up. "What's wrong?"

Anna shook her head. "Nothing. You just look so cute when you're concentrating like that."

John waggled his eyebrows. "Cute, eh?"

"We might revisit that once you're done," she said, ignoring him. "Carry on the good work."

"I'm not sure I can concentrate knowing that you think I'm cute."

"Well, you'd better find your concentration somewhere, because we're not leaving this table until you're done carving."

"I could work with hat."

"John, really," she scolded, but there was no mistaking the upward curl of her lips. He took it as a victory, and as something that they could explore later. For now, he would behave himself.

They worked in silence the rest of the time, until Anna at last sat back with a sigh. Her creation was incredible, intricate and inspired. Quite how she'd managed it was a bit beyond him. His own, by comparison, looked like a child's. It seemed to appeal to Anna for that reason.

"Look how cute it is!" she cooed.

"I wasn't going for cute. I was going for angry."

"I can sort of see that. But mostly it's just cute. It'd pass for something one of my six-year-olds did."

"There we are, then. My role is sorted. When a child of ours has any creative homework, they can fob it off to me and get all the credit."

The words hung between them. Anna coughed, breaking through the odd tension that had settled over them. "Yes, well. I think that's enough for one night. Will you help me tidy up?"

"Of course." John rose dutifully, gathering the pumpkin innards together to be scraped into the bin. He set about wiping down the table as Anna transported their pumpkins in to the sitting room. She returned a few minutes later, and they worked together in silence to get the kitchen back to its usual spotless state.

"What shall we do now?" he asked when they'd finished.

Anna shot him a cheeky look. "I have a few ideas."

"Oh? What are they?" John could feel the anticipation rising up within him at the pointed look she gave him. There could be no mistaking her intentions.

"I thought we might explore that intriguing idea you brought up earlier."

"And what idea was that?"

Her look was pure heat, and he felt himself responding to it immediately. "The one where I come down on you like a tonne of bricks, John."

"Christ," he said hoarsely.

"I think we'll be more comfortable continuing that somewhere else, though," she continued. "How about the bedroom?"

She squealed with laughter as he bundled her over the kitchen threshold into the hall. He didn't need telling twice.

* * *

Halloween crept up on them like a decaying corpse from the zombie apocalypse, and John enjoyed the impending sense of doom about as much as he would that. Everywhere he went he was acutely aware of all things ghoulish, from the signs advertised in the local coffee shop to the Halloween themed sandwiches in the bakery where he sometimes went at lunch. 'Blood Sandwiches' had put him off jam for life.

Anna, he knew, would be having the time of her life, no doubt getting into all things Halloweeny with her classes of children. Their house would be perfect for any kind of monster; he was practically falling over every single thing that she'd bought from the supermarket, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she had gone out and bought even more when he wasn't looking, because he was certain there were things sitting on the mantelpiece that he'd never clamped eyes on before. He'd pretended not to notice, however. Let her have her little secret. He was just grateful that she'd kept her word and relegated the ugly cat to the corner of the front window, where he didn't have to look at it too often. The thing still gave him the creeps.

After a gruelling meeting at the office, he drove back home, more than ready to lock the world outside behind him. There were bound to be a thousand scary movies on tonight. All of them would be terrible, but there was a silver lining to every cloud: he'd get to snuggle up in the dark with Anna, and wrap her in his arms when she hid her face against his chest. It cheered him.

Anna's car was already in the driveway when he pulled up and, smiling, he gathered his cane and his briefcase from the backseat and limped towards the welcoming lights. Letting himself in, he was greeted at once by warmth and a heavenly aroma.

"Something smells good," he called down the hall, and Anna appeared in the kitchen doorway, grinning.

"There you are!" she said. "Just in time. Tea's almost ready."

"And what do we have?" he said, shucking off his jacket and leaning his cane against the front door.

"Pumpkin soup for starters," she said promptly, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that. Of course. What else would it be? "And then there's steak for the main course, your favourite."

"You're spoiling me," he said, moving forward to take her into his arms. "What have I done to deserve all of this?"

"It might be more of an apology."

He furrowed his brows at that. "Why? What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything. But you might need it to get through the evening."

"I'm not sure I quite understand," he told her, following her in to the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw the worktops, piled high with mini packets of chocolate and sweets. "What's all this?"

"The goodies for this evening, of course."

"Couldn't you have just bought a few bags of ordinary sized things?"

"Not for us, silly. For the kids who come trick-or-treating."

Realisation dawned, and John groaned in despair. "Oh, God, you can't be serious. I am _not_ answering the door to trick-or-treaters. Kids today are an ungrateful lot. I wouldn't be surprised if they threw an egg at the window just because they can."

Anna tutted. "It's nothing like that. Besides, you can't dress the house up like this and then not open the door. It's stupid."

"Dressing the house up was stupid," John muttered. The whole point of him going out at Halloween was so he could avoid the kids who were far too old to be trick-or-treating.

Anna glowered at him. "It is not. It's in keeping with the holiday, thank you very much. Besides, it's not like I'm asking you to go to the door. _I'll_ hand the sweets out. We wouldn't want to scare them away with your black mood. You'll just have to put up with a little disruption to the proceedings."

"All right, all right, I'm sorry," he said. "Of course I can manage that. Let me clean up and I'll help you serve."

Thankfully, she let him dip his head to kiss her, and he went upstairs to change into something more comfortable than his suit. When he arrived back in the kitchen, he helped her to get the plates and served them each a generous portion.

They had been sitting down for only a few minutes when the doorbell rang. Beaming, Anna leapt to her feet.

"Our first-trick-or-treaters!" she said with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted.

"Your tea will go cold," he said as she hurried over to the worktop to seize the bowl of sweets she had thrown together.

"It's fine," she said.

"Suit yourself," said John. In his opinion, there was nothing worse than cold steak.

Anna went out into the hall. He heard the chorus of high-pitched children's voices and stabbed a potato moodily. The nightmare had begun.

* * *

It seemed never-ending. Anna barely had time to scarf a mouthful between each run to the front door, and it didn't improve when they'd finished eating. When they moved in to the sitting room to choose a film, John had hoped that it would die down enough to enjoy her wrapped in his arms, but that wasn't the case. No sooner had she snuggled against his side and he'd tucked her under his chin, the doorbell was going again, and she was wriggling out of his arms with glee to go and see to the children. She'd spend a few minutes at the front door before bounding back to him like an overexcited puppy, settling down for just a moment before it began all over again. It was tiring just watching her. He told her as much, but she only laughed.

"It's not tiring," she said. "It makes me happy. I started working with kids for a reason, you know. To hopefully enrich their lives in some way."

"I know," he said. "I didn't mean to detract from that."

She shrugged. "It's all right. Not everyone understands. Sometimes even _I_ don't, not when I'm at my wits' end. But that's children for you."

"It is." He didn't have much experience with children himself, but Robert had constantly been driven to despair by his three daughters, who still flustered him even today when they were fully grown adults.

"Anyway, let's get on with the film," said Anna, snuggling back in to his side and wrapping her arms tight around him. "I want to see what happens."

"What happens in every horror movie: they all die horrible deaths. Besides, I don't think you'll be doing much watching. You spend most of your time hiding your head against my chest."

"I happen to like your chest. It's comfortable."

"And I happen to like that you like it." He moved his hand up to the back of her neck, caressing her there just slightly.

"Mr. Bates, behave yourself," she said, but there was a breathy note in her voice that gave an indication that she wouldn't be completely opposed to the idea of being seduced. Grinning, he angled her head just slightly so he could bend down to kiss her—

The doorbell rang. Anna wriggled away from him at once. "Sorry. Duty calls."

Sighing, John leaned his head back against the sofa, listening to the front door opening.

"Oh, don't you look cute!" he heard Anna say with encouraging enthusiasm, but there were no shouts or cheers in reply.

"She's come over all shy," came a man's voice, chuckling. "If you can believe it, she hasn't stopped talking about how much she wants to do this all week. So what do you say now, Laura?"

There was a muffled murmuring, too quiet to hear. Curiosity piqued despite himself, John heaved himself up off the sofa and tiptoed to the door, peering through the crack at what he could. He caught a glimpse of a little dark-haired girl dressed up in an extravagant witch's costume, her hat lopsided on her head. She had a thumb in her mouth.

From this angle he could only see the back of Anna's head, but the joy was apparent in her voice. "Yes, that's right, trick or treat. Well, I don't think I want to see what tricks a witch can do. I bet you have lots up your sleeve, don't you?"

The little girl nodded shyly, her thumb slowly coming out of her mouth. "Yes."

"Can you turn people in to frogs?"

"I wike cats."

"Oh, cats? Well, I suppose that's not quite as bad. But I still wouldn't like it. So how about I give you some sweets instead?"

The girl nodded, taking a couple of colt-like steps forward while her father stood in the background. Anna bent down in front of her.

"Take a look," she said. "Is there something in particular you'd like?"

The little girl pointed at something, and Anna laughed.

"Maltesers are my favourite too," she confessed. "Take a couple of packets, please."

John heard the packets scrunching in the bowl as the little girl rummaged for what she wanted. At last she withdrew and dropped them into a little cauldron she had over her arm.

"Fankoo," she whispered. Her eyes were shining with delight.

Anna laughed. "You're welcome. Enjoy the rest of your night. You really do look lovely. Where did you get your costume from…?"

As the conversation began to wind down, John crept away from the door, taking care to settle himself back on the sofa exactly as he'd been before. His mind reeled, whirred. He felt rather strange, as if he had been hit round the head with something. The image of Anna with that little girl was burned on his retina, there when he blinked.

When Anna returned to him, she shot him a quizzical glance. "Are you all right? You look a little odd. The pumpkin soup hasn't made you feel sick, has it? Did I not cook the steak enough?"

"Everything's fine," he reassured her. "Just fine."

Well, it almost was.

Now that he'd seen it, he couldn't get the image out of his head. Anna, with the little girl. It was strange. In all the years that he had known her, he had never once seen her in a one-on-one situation with a child. She taught hundreds at school, was George's godmother, had babysat her friend Ethel's son. How was it even possible that he hadn't seen her with one before? But he hadn't. The knowledge of what she did for a living was always there, but there was knowing and there was truly _knowing_.

Now he did know. And it was perfect.

He wanted to see it again. He wanted to see her with a child of _theirs_. Rocking a son or daughter in her arms, soothing away their nightmares, being the strong, supportive pillar that only she could be. She was _made_ to be a mother. And he wanted so desperately to give her that.

It was frightening, in some ways. He had never really considered himself the kind of man who wanted children. He _liked_ children, but he had never been sure that he was the paternal sort. He certainly had never wanted them with Vera. Since meeting Anna, his views had changed, but he'd still had doubts about his suitability, especially with all of the mistakes he'd made in the past. Building a life with Anna had made him want the coveted happy family. It had always lived in the background, a kind of quiet certainty that one day, at some point in the future, it would happen for them. But it had never felt like this before.

It had never consumed him so unexpectedly. This had hit him like a bolt from the blue.

As the movie resumed, he found himself tuning out the screams of fear from the characters as they were picked off one by one, heard only the phantom coos of a Bates child that did not yet exist.

* * *

At last, the evening began to wind down. By nine, the bulk of the trick-or-treaters had passed through the neighbourhood, leaving only a few packets of Haribos behind. John snagged one of them from the bowl and chewed on a fried egg thoughtfully as, onscreen, the monster took out another hapless piece of cannon fodder. Beside him, Anna stirred.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she murmured.

"I've told you, I'm fine," he reassured her.

She bit her lip. "You just…seem distant."

"I don't mean to be." He squeezed her in his arm and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'm just thinking."

"Brooding, more like," she countered, prodding him in the stomach.

"Either way, it's a good kind of brooding."

"Is there such a thing?"

"I'm brooding about you."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"They're good thoughts, I promise."

"Care to share?"

He shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on the screen so that he didn't betray himself. "They're hardly worth sharing. You wouldn't pay even a penny for them."

"I'd pay whatever price for them," she countered. "Please, John. I don't like us not sharing our thoughts."

He knew that she'd always felt a little uneasy about the whole thing. Before they had made the decision to pursue a relationship, when they had been dancing round each other like attendees of a masked ball, he had made the private decision to school his desires and his thoughts, never letting her see more than she absolutely had to. It had taken a long time for him to let down his walls around her, helped by her kind and understanding nature, but he knew that it had made her feel despondent at times that he didn't seem to trust her enough to share the most intimate part of himself with her. He never wanted her to feel like that again. But nor did he want to overshoot the mark and ruin things. In this situation, it seemed as if he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. What should he do?

His decision was made for him when he saw the look in Anna's eyes. There was a tinge of apprehension that he needed to dispel at once.

"I was thinking about how much I want a baby," he blurted.

For a long moment, there was only excruciating silence between them. The back of John's neck began to tingle with the weight of it all, and he wondered if he would have been better lying after all. Anna was staring at him with a startled look on her face. Had he managed to screw everything up even more?

"What did you say?" she said. Her voice was little more than a whisper.

Adrenaline pulsed through his body. His heart throbbed. His mouth was uncharacteristically dry. But he'd said the words aloud; he couldn't take them back now. He swallowed hard and repeated them.

"I want a baby, Anna. I want us to have a child together."

"What's brought this on?" she asked. There was no judgement in her voice, but there wasn't much else in there to detect what she was feeling. Still, there was nothing he could do about it now. He'd taken the plunge. It was time to find out whether he'd sink or swim.

"I saw you tonight," he said softly. "When you were handing out sweets to one of the children. The little nervous one. That's what's brought it on. Seeing you with her, how you were with her. It got me thinking about what it would be like when we had a child of our own, and I realised that I didn't want to wait any longer for that. I want to see a child of our own in your arms, being treated the way that you treated those children tonight. I want to be the proud, doting father who gets all choked up at how fast his child is growing. And I know I should have waited until we'd had a proper discussion before saying any of this, but…" But he couldn't help the way that he felt. He had learned that the hard way when he had tried to push Anna out of his life. Fighting was futile.

Anna just sat there and stared at him. The anxiety started to rise within him.

"If I've said something I shouldn't—" he began.

But she shook her head slowly. "No, it's not that. I just…wasn't expecting it."

"You and me both," he said. Now that he'd said the words, he wasn't quite sure what he should do. Tentatively, he reached out a trembling hand to touch her. She twined her fingers through his immediately, holding on to him tightly.

"What do you say?" he whispered. "Have I screwed everything up?"

"Of course not," she said. "I want a baby with you too."

"I can sense a 'but'."

"Not a 'but' of sorts. Just…I thought we'd be married before we started a family together. It might sound silly, but I've always wanted the three of us to have the same surname. I don't want to be the odd one out, the only Smith in a household of Bateses."

"So don't be." Once more, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Anna blinked at him, and he ploughed on. "Let's get married."

"Married?" she said. "A talk about marriage and kids in one day? What on earth has got into you, Mr. Bates?"

"I've always wanted to marry you," he said. "I always hoped that it would happen one day."

"So did I, but not quite like this."

"What do you mean?" he said, worried all over again that he had stepped over the mark, that he'd pushed too soon. Perhaps he had moved much faster than she'd wanted. They had been together for almost three years now, but they were still just shy of living together for a full year, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable.

Anna waved her hand. He was relieved to see her lips quirking. "Well, I was always hoping that I'd get a proper proposal."

"Who says you're supposed to take it that way?" he shot back.

She shrugged, her smile widening. "You're the one who started talking about wanting a baby right now, not me."

He sat up straighter, looked her in the eye. He could barely hear himself over the thundering of his heart. "Well, what do you think? It's not too soon, is it?" Perhaps they needed to plan for it better, instead of making a spontaneous decision.

He knew, deep down, that it would make no difference. What could they plan for? They weren't a young couple just starting out. They had very steady jobs. Decent incomes. Enough to provide. Enough love to go around.

"Well, we've never been conventional, have we?" she said. There was no arguing with that. Plenty of people, her family included, had thought them ill-suited when they had announced that they were seeing each other. They had defied the odds then. Why should now be any different?

"So it's a yes, then?" he said tentatively. "We're going to get married? Try for a baby?"

Anna grinned broadly. "It's a yes, John. Let's do it."

He had never known that one word could inspire so much joy within him. Anna wanted to marry him. She wanted to start a family with him. He was a lucky, lucky man. Overwhelmed, he leaned forward to kiss her, cupping her face in his palm. She pulled away when he tried to deepen the kiss.

"What are you doing?" she said breathlessly.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, I'm quite sure that to make a baby, we need to do more than just talk about it, love."

She tried to look scandalised. "That sort of talk is beneath you."

"I stand corrected," he murmured, moving towards her again. This time, she allowed him to kiss her, but only for a brief moment. His disappointment lasted for less than a second as she fixed him with a sultry look.

"I can think of somewhere more comfortable than here to carry on this dialogue," she said. "Are you coming, Mr. Bates?"

She shimmied away from him, and he couldn't fumble for the remote fast enough. Sod the movie. They had much more important things to discuss. And do.

* * *

Later, when it was over and they were curled together in a very satisfied aftermath, Anna giggled. John grazed his lips against her temple, tightening his hold on her.

"What is it?" he whispered. "What's so funny?"

Anna shifted a little, tilting her head slightly so that he could see her expression better. "I was just thinking that I think that that's the worst proposal I've ever heard."

John sat up on his elbow, peering over her. "I see. And have you heard many proposals?"

She smirked at him. "I might have done."

"And yet you turned them down?"

"Well, the men proposing weren't as sexy as you," she said nonchalantly, and shrieked when he tickled her side in punishment. He kept it up for a few moments, relishing the sound of her full-throated laughter, before resting his chin against her shoulder.

"I do love you, you know," he murmured against her.

"I know."

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. There's not a day that goes by when I don't feel blessed to have you in my life. There isn't a day that goes by when you don't fill me up with happiness. I wasn't really living until I met you. You brought sunshine back to me. Marry me, Anna."

She rolled over fully, capturing his mouth with enthusiasm. He enjoyed the kiss for several long moments before pulling away just slightly, tucking an errant strand of her hair behind her ear.

"How was that?" he asked. "A bit better?"

"Corny. But highly enjoyable."

"Did it blow all of the others out of the park?"

"What others?" she murmured.

He kissed her again. "So, we're really going to do this?"

"We're really going to do it," she affirmed, her eyes shining.

"I'll get you a ring," he promised.

"I don't need one."

"Maybe not. But I want to give you one. You deserve one. A pretty one. Nothing too showy."

"Nothing like Mary's, you mean?" she teased.

John winced at the mere thought of the ostentatious rock that Mary sported. "No, nothing like that."

"Good. Because that's not me."

They fell silent for a few moments. John traced his eyes over the features he could see in the dim lighting.

"When do you want to do it?" he said.

"Well, we already have," she said cheekily. "We might, at this very minute, be on the way to making our own Baby Bates."

He rolled his eyes. "Not that. I meant the other thing. Getting married."

"Did you have a time in mind?"

"It depends on how soon we want to."

Anna shrugged. "I don't really have a preference, as long as we're married before the baby is born."

"Then what about in the spring?"

"Spring weddings are beautiful," she conceded. "But I don't want anything flashy. I'd be quite happy with a registrar wedding."

"You deserve so much more than that."

"I deserve happiness. Which is what I have. None of the rest of it matters."

Happiness. The notion was a heady one. "What about an April wedding?"

"I like April. It's pretty. Not too warm, not too cold."

"So it's a deal?"

"It's a deal, Mr. Bates," she said, and snuggled closer to him.

* * *

They married, as Anna had wanted, on a Friday afternoon in April, in a low-key affair with just their closest family and friends. At the time, neither of them had been aware that they were, after all, joined by the most precious member of their family.

Not everything went quite according to plan. There was no baby squalling in the crib for the following Halloween, as John had secretly hoped. But they had a new arrival just before the stroke of midnight at New Year, and to John, there couldn't be a more perfect time. Their son came in to the world to truly mark a wonderful fresh start, and seeing Anna cradling him in her arms filled him with such an indescribable love that he thought he would burst with it.

From that moment on, John never hated Halloween again. And they had many, many years of other happy holidays in front of them.


End file.
